The Fixed Trilogy: Found in You(93)

“I did. But it wouldn’t have mattered if I hadn’t gotten you back.”

Damn, the stuff he said was sweet. Only two weeks before, he’d been completely cut off from me, sharing very few of his true feelings. To think I could have missed out on all the beauty he had to offer if I’d let him slip away. Thank god, I’d stuck around for the good stuff.

I gazed up at his profile. “You never lost me, remember?”

“That’s right. I didn’t.” We’d reached the door and he turned to look at me. Those startling grey eyes—I could stay in them forever. Not lost, exactly, but more like found.

“I love you, Hudson Pierce.”

He breathed it in, physically breathed in my words—I could see exactly how they affected him. He needed them like I needed his touch. They changed him in some way that wasn’t quite tangible but real all the same. It made up for the fact that he still hadn’t been able to return the declaration.

He shook himself. “Go on out. Jordan should be waiting. I’ll set the alarm and lock up.”

He needed a minute to himself. I got that. He had the same effect on me.

I walked out, finding Jordan waiting with the Maybach.

“Good evening, Ms. Withers. I’m sorry to say that you missed your flight.”

I winked. “Another time, I suppose.”

I slid in the car, crossing to the opposite window to leave space for Hudson. While I waited, I turned on the new phone Hudson had given me. I smiled at the front screen wallpaper—it was a publicity picture of us kissing from the fashion show I’d attended with him. Scrolling through my contacts, I could tell that he’d managed to transfer my number and all my personal data to the new phone.

After a minute, the phone buzzed to notify me of incoming texts. I had seventeen in all. I scrolled through them, finding most were from Hudson, one from Brian—probably from before he’d found out my phone had broken.

My brow furrowed as I saw two texts from an unknown number. I opened the first one. “The video file is too big for text. Text me if you want to see it in person.”

Confused, I scrolled to the next text from that number. “Btw, this is Stacy from Mirabelle’s.”

Ah, Stacy. She’d told me she had some proof about Hudson and Celia. Some reason not to trust her.

I laughed to myself. Too little, too late. Whatever proof Stacy had that Celia was a bitch was completely unnecessary. I’d learned the hard way.

Though it did pique my curiosity.

“Everything okay?” Hudson asked as he slipped in the backseat next to me.

“Everything’s perfect.” I dimmed my phone and stuck it in my bra. The outside world didn’t hold a spark of interest to me when I had Hudson beside me. I was beginning to see that he might be there for a long time. He was right—we were connected. Nothing could break us apart. I was convinced of that now.

I buckled my seatbelt then settled into the crook of his arm thinking perfect was something I could get used to.





ACKNOWLEDGMENTS


This is always the hardest part of writing the book and I dread it and put it off as long as possible because I’m afraid I’ll forget someone or start crying as I list all the wonderful people who have made an impact in the life of my book.

Thankfully the digital page doesn’t show tear marks, so here we go:

First, to Tom, always first to Tom—my husband, my love, the sole reason I am able to spend hours reading and writing without my life falling apart around me. I love you, always.

To my children who don’t understand why Mom’s books are hush-hush at church, but are doing a good job of keeping things quiet—you are the reasons I write, girls, because you are the reasons I live.

To my Mom who supports me fully and still doesn’t think it’s enough—don’t worry, Mom. I have enough readers. You can just be my cheerleader.

To Sophia for the cover design and for always pushing me to go the distance.

To Bethany for editing and book-fairying and for always being there to pull me off the ledge and tell me I’m a good person when I feel quite the opposite.

To my earliest readers and critique partners—Lisa, I hope to one day have as much talent as you have in your little finger. Jackie, your commas make me a better writer. Tristina, your suggestions are always the ones I need to hear. Tamara, when you think I’m hot, I feel hot, because YOU, lady are HAWT.

To my agent, Bob DiForio, who worked through all the icky publishing crap so that I didn’t have to—man, what a ride, huh?

To Stephen DiForio and Caitlin Greer for formatting, and Julie at AToMR Book Blog Tours, who gets my books exposure all over the ‘net.

To my best friends eveh, The NAturals—Sierra, Sophia, Melanie, Lucy, and Tamara, sometimes you’re the only reason I wake up in the morning and you’re often the reason I stay up too late. Sometimes brow-porn is the only thing you need.

To Joe, who lovingly calls this the “F” you series—this was our year! But just wait and see what next year brings.

To Kristen Proby for your beautiful love of this series and the advice, support and inspiration you’ve given a budding author.

To the WrAHMs and the Babes of the Scribes—you’re all such beautiful women. I’m so lucky to know you.

To the authors I’ve friended in this wonderful writing community—you never fail to inspire me and push me to further heights both personally and in my stories. What an amazing passion we share. Thank you for all you’ve taught me and for letting me read your amazing, beautiful words.